


Home Is

by stylinourry



Series: Profound Bond (DeanCas) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Drabble, One-Shot, Post-Episode: s11e23 Alpha and Omega, lol what is this, the bond between Sam and Dean as brothers is bittersweet, was inspired by tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinourry/pseuds/stylinourry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A blanket is an object that holds certain memories for Dean.</p><p>If anything, its brings him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is

**Author's Note:**

> This was the randomest drabble! I recently got into Supernatural and the show has me _hooked_. I love it so much.
> 
> Loosely based on [a tumblr post](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/post/148367692950/wish-for-supernatural-s12-dean-gets-to-sleep) and since I enjoy inflicting pain on myself by writing Young!Sam + Young!Dean I hope you enjoy it too.

* * *

_Dean watches John through the window. He’s throwing a duffel bag into the trunk, and he knows his father’s weapons when he sees them. The butt of a Glock sticks out from John’s left back pocket, and as if he sensed Dean observing him, he turns around, looking up towards his bedroom._

_John offers him a smile that Dean nearly fails to return, and before he drives away he gives his eldest son a playful salute._

_His Impala then roars down the street, disappearing in the shrouded darkness, and Dean waits until the brightness of the tail-lights fade to check on Sam._

_Dean yelps when his brother tugs his shirtsleeve, and he’s scratching his neck with skinny fingers, hair mussed and hazel eyes fresh with sleep yet alert._

_“Is dad gone?”_

_“What're you doing, Sammy? It’s two in the morning.”_

_“I can’t sleep, Dean.”_

_Dean hides his residual anger at being abandoned again, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulder instead._

_He sighs gently. “Tell you what, wanna build a fort?”_

_Sam’s eyes widen with delight, sparkling and eager, and Dean’s chest catches at how young his brother really looks. He was so smart, so astute for an eight year old, but John never gave him credit…never acknowledged that Sam’s probably even more of a talent than Dean is. School, training - everything Sam set his hands on._

_Of course, when has his father ever acknowledged them equally?_

_“_ Really _?”_

_“Hell yeah, Sammy. You just need a blanket, a surface or two to hold it up, and some space underneath. It’s like a mini tent. If we do it right we can fit all sorts of stuff inside.”_

_“That’s so cool! I wanna get my toys! And-and you can be Han Solo while I’m Chewbacca! Our fort will be a spaceship! Can I pretend it’s a spaceship?”_

_Dean chuckles. “A fort can be anything you want.”_

_Sam jumps in excitement, running out of the room, and Dean grabs his stash of snacks from a loose floorboard under his desk._

_~_

_After struggling to tie the blanket between Sam’s chair and his bedframe, Dean’s flashlight creates an otherwordly glow, highlighting the patterned giraffes and lions that dance across the fabric, and Sam dumps his books along the front entrance of the fort._

_“Wait, I forgot!”_

_Sam leaves the room, small feet rushing downstairs, and he comes back with an armful of comics, grinning widely. “I borrowed these from the library!”_

_“_ Whoa _, you have a ton!” Dean leafs through them. There’s_ Superman _,_ Batman _,_ Avengers _,_ Justice League _,_ Transformers _,_ G.I. Joe _, and a few obscure titles that Dean’s never heard of._

_Dean glances at Sam in disbelief. “Aren’t you supposed to borrow like five a day or something?”_

_Sam snickers, shrugging. “The librarian didn’t notice I hid most of them in my bag.”_

_Dean laughs, shaking his head. “Who knew Sammy could break the rules when he wanted to?” Sam shoves him playfully, throwing his Han Solo figurine in Dean’s face. “Hey!”_

_Sam’s bouncing up and down impatiently, crossing his legs to make room and waving Chewbacca. “C’mon, let’s play now!”  
_

_And they do play. They play throughout the whole night._

_This was home._

* * *

Dean’s eyes snap open, face burrowed into the blanket, and he releases a sigh.

His sigh was deep and raw, containing three decades’ worth of pain, regret, and coiled anger.

It was over. It was done.

Him and Sam survived another apocalypse - one that they were solely responsible for, and goddamn if Amara never managed to untwist her own delusions of revenge. Dean didn’t expect her to relent: to heed to Dean’s words (which also surprised him), and right when he thought there wouldn’t be anymore unbidden bullets shooting at him without warning, his own mother showed up. 

Mary Winchester, clad in her famous white dress the night of her death, appeared out of nowhere, beautiful and confused and disoriented and quite shaken at the sight of her grown son as the dangerous, seasoned hunter Mary vehemently forbid him to become.

In a nutshell, Castiel (after escaping wherever the hell he was banished to and getting over the obvious fact that Dean hadn’t sacrificed himself) helped Dean protect Mary. They killed one of those British Women of Letter, drove to the bunker as fast as Baby could possibly manage, and explained themselves. 

An overly emotional Dean told Mary about their current lives and the unbelievable circumstances that led to it, not to mention his mother fell asleep for thirteen hours, and he was left alone to absorb the extreme magnitude of what had just occurred. 

Amara gave their _dead_ mother back to them.

But Toni Bevell escaped, taking Sam with her. Where the hell was she?

Dean shoves his thoughts away, willing himself to worry the next morning. 

He wanted to return to the childhood memories swimming within his sleepy mind.

He deserved to dream about the blanket fort him and Sam made long, long ago, during a golden time when the Winchester brothers weren’t killing things. During a time when the only real worry they had was disappointing their father.  

Castiel stirs beside him, tucking the covers over Dean’s exposed shoulder, and Dean’s breath hitches. 

Bright, radiant blue eyes peer curiously at emerald green. 

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. I feel your restlessness.”

Dean smiles wistfully and caresses Castiel’s cheek, shifting to press his forehead against the angel’s neck. In response to Dean’s sudden display of affection, Castiel’s hand worms its way onto the small of Dean’s back, holding him close.

“Is this better?”

“Yeah, thanks Cas,” Dean mumbles, his breath fanning Castiel’s throat, and despite his drowsy state of mind, his full lips kiss warm skin.

“So glad you’re home.” 


End file.
